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An Innocent Affair By Elrod W. Tom Haskin was all smiles as he stepped off the elevator. And why not? His older son Bobby had done pretty well in T-ball last night, and his wife had helped celebrate - especially after the boys went to bed. Tom had every reason to feel good. The presence of Miranda Barajas in his office dampened his enthusiasm a bit. She was seated across the desk from his chair, her short skirt riding up her thighs seductively. Miranda smiled when Tom walked in. "Good morning, Tom" she said in her thick Latin accent. "I take it you had a restful evening." Tom was suddenly in no mood for idle chat. Despite that, he kept a pleasant smile. "Not bad," he replied casually, taking a moment to block the door open before he sat down in his chair. His radar was sending alarms. Girls like Miranda could be trouble. He had a sense about that. Miranda leaned across the desk, a folder in her outstretched hand. "I got those figures you need on the Johnson account." Tom smiled an acknowledgement. "Thanks. You do good work." Inwardly, he was hoping she'd leave, and quickly. Her blouse was unbuttoned a bit, showing off her cleavage. From his seat, Tom could sense her perfume. Not overpowering, subtly applied to create an air of mystery. He opened the folder, trying hard to ignore her, as he glanced at the figures. After a moment, he hadn't heard her leave, so he looked up. "Was there anything else?" he asked. Miranda smiled, ignoring his obvious slight. "Not unless you can think of something else you need," she said invitingly, pursing her full sensuous ruby lips at the end. Tom groaned inwardly. "On your way out, can you have Traci dial my home? I forgot to discuss Bobby's birthday present with my wife, and I know she wanted to pick up something while she was doing errands today." Miranda was unaffected by the rebuke. "Anything you want, Tom," she purred as she stood, deliberately straightening her short skirt. She turned and strutted from his office, her hips swaying sexily. Tom sighed. Her flirting was starting to get under his skin. Miranda had only been with the company a few weeks, and she'd already cemented her status as the biggest flirt. And always with the married men. She'd rebuffed advances from every single guy - sometimes in brutal or humiliating fashion. Wistfully, Tom considered what he'd do if he were single. Miranda was very attractive. Medium height, very slender build, she had a very sexy toush and a relatively small waist. Couple those with her moderate but perky breasts, and she had a dynamite figure. And she had an exotic air; she was Hispanic, with darker skin, long wavy dark hair, and brown eyes. That's what got everyone, Tom decided. The eyes. Soft and brown and innocent, they had the power to enchant a man before he knew what hit him. Miranda dressed in professional but alluring outfits. Always a short but fashionable skirt or dress, to make maximum use of her slender sexy legs. The inevitable low-cut neckline, to accentuate her breasts. Jewelry designed to call attention to her assets, like the necklace dangling toward her cleavage, inviting the gaze downward below her neck, toward her charms. None of the guys knew if Miranda wore any makeup besides the ruby red lipstick and some eye shadow - the speculation was that her complexion was perfect as is. Whether she needed makeup or not, the total package was stunning. A temptress. A seductress on the prowl for male companionship. And Tom was her current target. He sighed again, then lifted himself from his chair and stepped out to his secretary, carrying Miranda's folder. "Can you get a few copies of this for the staff meeting?" he asked simply. Traci, Tom's secretary, took the folder without looking up. "Sure, Tom." Before he could return to his office, she added, "Your home phone was busy - I'll call back in a couple of minutes." Tom glanced over his shoulder. "Thanks." "And Tom," Traci added softly, "smart move with the door." Tom smiled over his shoulder at his secretary. He knew that her help was invaluable. Even though he'd never be tempted, he also knew that he had to avoid even the slightest hint of impropriety. Tom had seen a few careers abruptly ended by mere rumors if inappropriate relationships and the threat of harassment suits. Tom eased back into his chair and wondered why it was his turn. Why was Miranda coming on to him? At first, he'd dismissed it as being her nature to flirt. But then Traci gave him a subtle hint that she was on the prowl. Why him, though? Tom was ten or eleven years older than Miranda - she was reasonably fresh out of college, where he was thirty-three. While he'd always considered himself moderately attractive, he wasn't so blind to think himself a Casanova. Just an average guy. An average married guy. Very married. Emily was the greatest wife he could ask for. And his sons Bobby and Michael, ages 5 and 2, completed his happy little circle. The staff meeting had gone smoothly - Tom had given Miranda the credit she was due for her work, much to the annoyance of two of the other girls. But as the meeting broke up, Miranda made a point of smiling and winking at Tom - in plain sight of most of the staff. As he sank back into his chair, wondering how to handle Miranda, Traci stepped in, then closed the door. Tom's attention changed instantly. Traci never interrupted unless it was important. Traci looked a bit embarrassed. "I just thought you'd like to know that some of the guys are, well, talking." Tom knew the answer, even before he asked the question. "About what?" "Miranda." Tim closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then let his eyes drift open. "What kind of talk?" Traci really looked uncomfortable. "That she's ., well, that you." Traci was unsure how to say it. "That you two are having an affair," she finally blurted. Tom said nothing. He just closed his eyes and sighed. Finally he looked up at his secretary. "You know." "That it's not true," she finished for him. Traci smiled. "Of course. But there's still some talk." She turned to leave, then thought again. "Just be careful, Tom." Tom gave Bobby a good-night kiss, then settled back onto the couch. He was trying to concentrate on the show, but his mind kept coming back to what Traci had told him. Even when Emily cuddled up next to him, Tom's mind was on Traci's warning. So absorbed was he that when they went to bed, Tom failed. He couldn't perform. After trying and trying, Tom rolled over. "Is something wrong, honey?" Emily asked cautiously, afraid that she'd done something to upset him. Tom shook his head. "One of the people at work is starting to become a problem." He hoped to avoid discussion of what type of a problem Miranda was. "I'm sorry I let it get to me," He pulled Emily close, hoping some cuddling would please her and comfort his own troubled soul. But Emily knew that something deeper was bothering Tom. "What's really going on?" she persisted. Tom rolled over to face her. "It's the new girl. Miranda Barajas. She's acting, well, very interested. Flirtatious. And the others have noticed." Emily knew her husband enough to know he'd done nothing wrong. And wouldn't do anything. "So what do you do?" Tom shook his head. "I'm hoping it'll blow over." He gave Emily a quick kiss. "And I've been adding pictures of you and the boys to my credenza. And I talk about you all the time. Just to remind people how I feel about you and how important you are to me." Emily smiled. Just like Tom to try the subtle approach. If people wanted to talk, he'd talk about his loving family. She felt lucky to have him for a husband. Tuesday morning, Miranda was waiting in Tom's office. Again. "Hi, Tom," she said cheerfully. "I've got some great news. We've made up the schedule, and we're back on target for a fall release." Tom smiled. That was good news. "Great," he said enthusiastically. "Everyone's been working hard." Miranda stood gracefully, turning toward the door, then she stopped and turned back toward Tom. The planned effect was to show him her nice round ass, the profile of her breasts, and her soft brown eyes. "The team is planning a lunch to celebrate. Can I tell them you'll be there?" Tom thought for a second, then nodded. "Sure," he said carefully. If the whole team were present. No danger in that. Miranda smiled. "Guido's. Eleven thirty." As usual, Tom was a bit late for lunch. A meeting with senior management had taken longer than expected. But only a few minutes. He walked into Guido's his eyes struggling to adjust to the dim light. The hostess immediately stepped toward him. "May I help you?" Tom tried to peer into the restaurant. "I'm meeting a party from Nelson Company." The hostess gave him a puzzled look, then turned. "Follow me," she said, her tone sounding a little harsh. Tom followed her to a table, and found only Miranda. He frowned even as she smiled up at him. He eased himself down into a chair warily. "The others?" he asked simply. Miranda smiled. "Oh, they couldn't make it." Tom's frown deepened. "This doesn't seem appropriate to me." Miranda didn't miss a beat. "You don't like being seen with a sexy girl?" Her voice was a siren song, calling Tom to his doom. "You do think I'm attractive, don't you?" She practically purred an invitation for a compliment. Tom swallowed hard. "I don't think that's an appropriate question," he said uneasily. Miranda leaned onto the table, her lips pursed, her body angled to give him a view into her plunging neckline. "Are you planning on working a little late this evening?" Tom scowled. "Are you trying to suggest something?" He was getting flustered. Miranda pursed her lips at him again, then smiled as she unbuttoned another button on her blouse. "You can take it as anything you want." Tom fled. There was no other way to describe his actions - he fled. Before he could misinterpret anything, before she could do something they'd both regret. He ran. Tom collapsed against the back wall as the elevator doors slid shut. He'd been avoiding Miranda since lunch the day before, so much had her advanced rattled him. But just as he thought he was safe, the door opened and Miranda slid in, smiling. After the doors slid shut, she smiled at him and pursed her lips, then unbuttoned the top button on her blouse, pulling it back to reveal her cleavage. "You know I'd really really like to spend some time getting to know you better," she said in a breathy voice. Tom felt angry and trapped. "No," he said simply. Miranda smiled, running her hand down past her breast and tracing the outline of her waist and bottom. "You know you're tempted." Tom gritted his teeth for a second, fighting the overwhelming sensation of being trapped. The company was on the sixteenth floor, and the elevator ride was way too long. At least right now. "Even if I were tempted, which I'm not, there's a big difference between being tempted and following through." He swallowed. "I think I should report your behavior to Mr. Watkins." Miranda smiled at him in a way that sent a shiver down Tom's neck. "I don't think so," she said lightly. "You wouldn't want to be accused of sexual harassment, now, would you?" Tom recoiled from her threat. He was starting to realize that she would do such a thing. Miranda continued, her hands holding the lapels of his sport coat. "You will have an affair with me. A long, steamy, sexy affair. And I will have your child." She looked up at him, licking her lips. Tom felt fear. Fear from this woman! How could she intimidate him so? "I won't do that." Miranda smiled, stepping back from him as the car neared their floor. "We'll see." She looked and sounded so confident of herself that Tom wanted to run in fear. Miranda was very curt with Tom the rest of the week. So much so that he wondered if he had been imagining things. Traci had noticed too, and she mentioned that the gossip had abruptly vanished. Tom had briefly considered telling Emily, but decided against it. Time would tell if the problem had been resolved. But he did take the precaution of documenting what he'd done, what Miranda had done, their conversations, and how she came on to him in the elevator. One nice document, filed away in the main company server, encrypted and time-authenticated, just to be on the safe side. Once it got there, it would be automatically backed up to tape, and even Tom would have problems erasing traces of its existence. Tom didn't like to take chances. Friday, Tom's last meeting ran a bit late. By the time he got back to his office to pack up his briefcase, Traci and most of the others had left. Tom was closing his briefcase when he became aware that someone was standing in the doorway. He swallowed hard when he saw it was Miranda. And she had a wicked smile on her face. "Have you changed your mind, yet?" she asked simply. Tom shook his head and stood, picking up his briefcase. "No." Miranda seemed unfazed. "You will." She lifted her hands, and made a strange motion. Tom felt a wave of dizziness, then a flash of light temporarily disoriented him. And then Tom was looking at himself from the doorway of his own office! "What." Tom started to say, then clasped his hand over his mouth, surprised at the voice he heard. His body smiled. "You're starting to figure it out by now, aren't you?" His own voice mocked him, drilled home that he was no longer in his own body. Which meant that . somehow, he was in Miranda's body! Tom looked down, feeling a wave of panic sweep over him. This was impossible! And yet, his own eyes couldn't deny the evidence. He saw - felt - breasts on his chest. He saw the waves of brown hair swirling in his peripheral vision, framing what he knew was Miranda's face. He looked back up, seeing his own body smiling at him. "This is." "Impossible?" his body taunted. "Not quite dear little Miranda." His body leered. "Oh, yes. You are Miranda now. You see, I learned a little magic from my grandmother. And now, you get a chance to live my life. Unless you want to reconsider the affair." Tom's senses were reeling. First, she'd been both threatening and seductive with him. Now - somehow! - she'd swapped bodies with him! And she still wanted an affair. "Why are you doing this?" Miranda - in Tom's body - smiled. "I want you. And now I have you." He picked up Tom's briefcase and started toward the door. "Have a nice weekend." Tom tried to make sense out of this. "This is impossible!" she said, her voice somehow perfectly mimicking Miranda's accent and speech mannerisms. Tom's body smiled. "Can you explain it?" He snorted derisively. "No, you can't," he said, not waiting for an answer. Tom tried to work up his courage. "I demand you change me back." His own body smiled. "That's easy. All you have to do is agree to my terms." Tom was adamant on that point. "I can't do that." His body smiled. "Then you can spend some time as me. Until you change your mind." Tom was scared like she'd never been scared. "You can't get away with this," she said, her voice trembling. "You can't fool anyone into thinking you're me." His body smiled again. "Bobby is almost 5 - his birthday is in two weeks, May 16th. Michael's birthday is the day after your anniversary, October 14th. Last year, you got your wife a little red teddy for her birthday." Miranda paused, letting Tom realize what had just happened. "Shall I go on?" Tom was shocked. Her face showed that much. "How can you possibly know that?" Miranda smiled that same wicked smile. "Your body has a copy of your memories. And I can easily read them. So you see, it won't be a problem to convince anyone that I'm you." He started to pick up Tom's briefcase again, then turned. "Where do you live?" Tom looked puzzled, then recited, "1814 South Longwood, Apartment 14." Her mouth went wide with shock as Tom realized that he'd just given Miranda's address. Miranda smiled. "I left some memories in my body. To help a bit. But not nearly enough that you will be comfortable." Tom's body smiled again. "Enjoy the weekend. Unless you've changed your mind." Tom tried to summon her courage. She stiffened her back, not knowing just how seductively it thrust out her breasts. "That's blackmail. I won't do it." Miranda smiled. "Eventually you will." He started to leave, then almost as an afterthought, turned back to Tom. "By the way, if you're not careful, this change could be permanent." Tom looked warily at Miranda. "What do you mean?" Miranda's leer was answer enough. "If you get pregnant." Tom found himself confident. "There's no way I'm going to have sex in this body." Miranda grinned. "We'll see how well you can resist my other little present." In Tom's stolen body, she strode quickly out of his office. Tom felt a shiver of terror as she turned, just in time to see his old body get onto the elevator. Tom knew she was dreaming. This couldn't be happening. On autopilot, she went into the bathroom, almost the men's room before she realized the mistake. And then Tom looked in the mirror - a long, hard look. He - she - was Miranda. There was no denying that fact. How it had happened was still a mystery to Tom, but it had happened. She felt her breasts, confirming by touch that they were there. She probed her face, feeling the delicate features, tugging gently at the earrings, running her fingers through her hair. Tom felt a surge of panic. The rational part of Tom's mind got Miranda's purse from her office, then headed down the elevator, trying to figure out what to do. She could go directly to Tom's house and confront Miranda. But that wouldn't buy her anything. With access to his memories, Miranda could easily fool Emily into thinking she was a deluded nutcase. As the elevator slowed and stopped, Tom started to walk toward Miranda's car, as if by instinct. A brief ride later, and Tom was at Miranda's apartment. She opened the door, then slipped in. As the door closed behind her, Tom sank against it, feeling helpless. Miranda's apartment was so feminine, so alien, and at the same time, so familiar. She felt like an intruder, and at the same time felt at home. Tom slunk to a chair and flopped down. She felt like crying. This wasn't fair! How could she do this to him? She knew tears were flowing down her cheeks, but she didn't care. After a long while, Tom knew she had to go to the bathroom. Again, this body was working as if on autopilot, although she had to remember to put down the toilet seat. And when she stood, she got another look at her face. Tom knew, instinctively, that she needed to touch up her makeup. As Tom pondered that, the doorbell rang, causing another wave of panic. Tom paused, wondering if she should open the door. Finally, when the ringing changed to insistent banging, she knew she had to open it. No sooner was the door unlocked that another woman barged in. About the same age as Miranda, she was dressed to go out. Tom fought through Miranda's memories, trying to find a name. "Girl, you aren't ready yet?" the other girl said reproachfully. "It's time! Get your butt moving!" She didn't fit the stereotypical blond that she first appeared to be. Tom found a name. Stacy? "I'm sorry," she said carefully, "but I'm not feeling too good right now." Stacy crossed her arms under her ample breasts - much bigger than Miranda's. Overall, her figure was much curvier, much sexier, than Miranda. "You aren't pulling that one again. We're going, and that's final." Tom tried to stall. "At least let me touch up my hair and makeup." Stacy thought for a second. "Okay, but hurry it up." Tom flipped the bathroom light back on, terrified. She had to put on makeup and comb her hair. But she wasn't sure she could do those relatively simple tasks. Tom closed her eyes. And suddenly, the memories of putting on makeup were present. Without thinking about it, she did a quick patch, then took a comb. Again, the memories guided her though that simple task. She stepped back from the mirror, and found that she was again presentable. Even though Tom didn't want to leave. Dinner was at a new Tapas bar. From the way the wait staff greeted them, Tom knew that Miranda and Stacy were regulars. Giving in to the hunger in her stomach, Tom ate a few morsels, but couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling she'd been having all night. Stacy, however, didn't seem to mind. She was very lively and talkative. "How about you just drop me off at home?" Tom asked as they left the eatery. Stacy looked at her like she was from another planet. "Are you kidding? We're going to the club. Just like we planned." And since Stacy was driving, Tom was trapped. The club was an oldies club, playing mostly 60's rock and roll music. Stacy led the way into the dim bar, threading her way easily through the milling patrons until she found a couple of empty stools at the bar. Tom followed behind Stacy, feeling very self-conscious at the stares she knew she was getting. As Tom pulled herself up onto the bar stool, she saw that Stacy had already ordered drinks. Tom wondered what Miranda usually drank, and was surprised to find it was gin and tonic. Within moments, a couple of guys eased up beside Stacy and Tom. One of the two was direct, and asked Stacy to dance. She seemed eager for the invitation, and hopped from her stool. "How about you? Want to dance?" the remaining guy asked Tom. Tom shook her head slightly. "Not really," she said loudly enough to be heard over the music. "I had a bad day at work," she said. The other guy perched himself on Stacy's stool, trying to make small talk. But Tom wasn't interested. In fact, Tom was downright rude in her attempts to get the guy to leave. Tom never had liked the bar scene, and Miranda had now forced her into that uncomfortable situation. Eventually, the young man got the hint and left. As Tom turned back to her drink, she realized she was feeling a bit funny. Not sick, but odd. She couldn't explain it. Stacy returned in a bit, her dance partner stuck to her like glue. "Where's Bill?" she asked, glancing around and puzzled that Miranda was sitting alone. "I guess he wasn't interested in me," Tom lied quickly. Stacy pushed her guy down on the empty barstool, then turned to Tom. "I've got to use the ladies' room," she said softly. Tom paused a second, then realized that she was supposed to go with Stacy. Reluctantly, she followed Stacy to the rest room. Once inside, Tom realized that she really had to go. And when she sat in the stall, she found herself curiously damp. The pieces came together suddenly; Tom realized that she was getting horny. That was the funny feeling she'd been having all night. She felt a growing curiosity about the growing desire, a need to touch and explore. But at the same time, she felt repulsed. Stacy turned on Tom as soon as Tom exited the stall. "What the hell is going on?" she demanded. "Why were you so rude?" Stacy put her hands on her hips, displaying her annoyance. "That's not like you. You're usually on the floor before I am." Tom felt trapped again. She didn't know how Miranda lived her life. Those memories were out of her reach - a reminder by Miranda of just how much control she had. "I don't know," Tom tried to sound sheepish. "I'm not feeling very good. It was a rough week at work." Stacy accepted the explanation - grudgingly. And then Stacy practically pushed Tom onto the dance floor with a guy she apparently knew. Tom hated dancing, but found that Miranda's body was natural at it. If Tom didn't think about the moves, she was actually quite good. Tom started to relax. And then a slow dance came up. Tom found herself clutched tightly, held against the slow swaying body of her partner. And Tom realized she was getting the aroused feeling she'd had was returning, and with a vengeance. Tom felt a curious tingling on her chest, and realized her nipples were erect. At the same time, she felt an increasing dampness in her crotch. Then Tom remembered Miranda's cryptic message. Tom knew that Miranda had done something to this body - something which would make it easier and easier for Tom to get sexually aroused. Tom feared that Miranda had also made sure it would be harder and harder to resist the urge. Tom broke from her partner and bolted to the ladies' room. She stepped into a stall, then hung her head and pretended to throw up. As expected, Stacy was hot on her heels. And when Stacy saw that Tom was sick, she immediately offered to take Tom home. Which had been Tom's plan. Anything to get out of the club before she did something she might regret. For the rest of her life. Stacy had insisted on hanging around until she was sure Tom was all right, but Tom assured her that she'd be okay now. After Stacy left, Tom looked for something less sexy to change into. She finally settled for a moderately conservative nightie - even Miranda's most conservative clothes fairly screamed sex. Tom turned on the television and tried to relax. She couldn't. She couldn't focus on the TV program. All Tom could think was that Miranda had left this body so vulnerable to being horny that sooner or later, Tom was going to have sex. And that thought scared Tom. Eventually, Tom drifted to sleep. But even in her sleep, very erotic dreams intruded. Tom eventually woke, thinking it was a nightmare. And Tom realized from her wet crotch that it wasn't. She'd had intensely erotic dreams, which left her very horny. Tom tried to fight the feelings, wanted to fight the feelings, but found herself being overwhelmed. Finally, she practically leaped from the bed and stomped into the kitchen. It was still early, but late enough that she could get some breakfast. Tom turned on the television. But like the night before, she found she couldn't concentrate. After a fretful half hour, Tom decided to go running; she'd seen Miranda's jogging suit last night when she'd been rummaging for clothes. Now was as good a time as any to use it. The trail seemed natural to Tom - if she didn't think about where she was going. Her subconscious mind, the limited memories Miranda had left, were guiding her. What wasn't natural to Tom was that she was noticing the guys running. How athletic and trim some of them looked. By the time Tom got back to Miranda's apartment, there was a very noticeable wet spot in the crotch of her shorts and sweat pants. Tom thought again about how horny she was, and fought the urge to explore. She decided to change, but then realized that she needed a shower. Tom was enjoying the shower, starting to feel clean after getting sweaty running. But when she rubbed soap on her nipples, Tom felt an almost electric charge course through her body, a powerful feeling unlike any she'd felt before. It took all of Tom's will power to stop touching herself. After eating a sandwich, Tom heard the doorbell ring. When she peeked, she saw it was Stacy again. Tom eased the door open, letting Stacy in. "You aren't ready again?" Stacy practically exploded. "Class starts in twenty minutes! Get moving!" Tom stood, dumbfounded. "Class?" Stacy rolled her eyes. "Aerobics class. Every Saturday. You remember?" She began to push Tom. "Now move it!" Tom changed, then followed Stacy out the door. As they started warming up, Tom noticed all the other girls there - in outfits as flattering as she'd ever seen. Even her own leotard did a magnificent job of accentuating her curves - and the firm nipples she was getting as she watched the other women. "You aren't your usual energetic self," one of the girls sang out to Tom as they worked through the routine. The entire aerobics routine took all of Tom's concentration, and she was starting to perspire, from both the physical exertion and the mental effort. Tom tried not to look directly at the other girl. "I haven't been feeling too good lately," she said half-heartedly. The other girl smiled. "I hope it's nothing catching." Tom suppressed a groan. "No, I'm sure it's not contagious." As the continued their routines, Tom couldn't help but notice the bouncing and jiggling breasts in the room with her. The male part of her mind found it exhilarating. Tom found herself getting hot again. In the locker room, Tom tried to sit in a corner, out of view of the others. She felt very embarrassed by the wetness in her crotch, the feelings in her mind and body. She'd gotten very excited watching the other girls. By the time Tom got back to Miranda's apartment, she felt totally humiliated. She had gotten embarrassingly horny watching the other girls, and she knew Miranda had booby-trapped this body. And she didn't know what to do about it. So far, her willpower had held. But it wouldn't hold forever. Tom checked in Miranda's purse, and found a movie card. She decided then and there to rent a movie and stay home. Even at the movie store, Tom realized she was having problems. Guys were staring at her, lustful intentions clear in their eyes. One guy even tried to hit on her, commenting how she had the same taste in movies. Tom glanced down, horrified to discover that she was renting normal `guy' movies. She gave the guy a withering stare, then grabbed some popcorn, her movies, and headed back home. Tom slipped into a dry nightie, a bit more daring than the one from last night, but clearly Miranda's taste in lingerie was on the exotic side. Then she popped the popcorn and settled on the couch. She awoke feeling very stiff, and realized she'd fallen asleep before the movie had ended. She stretched lazily, working the knots out of her muscles, then went into the bathroom. Tom decided that a good soaking bath would be perfect for ridding her body of the residual stiffness, so she drew a nice warm bath. As she settled into the tub, she found herself sighing with pleasure at the way the warm water caressed her body. Without intending to, Tom found herself touching and caressing her nipples, enjoying how sensitive and sensual they were, how much they stimulated her. And before she knew it, her hand slipped slowly, against her will, down to her crotch. She fought the urges, a futile battle, as her fingers began to explore and to touch, bringing new and powerful sexual feelings to Tom. Her eyes drifted almost shut as the feelings grew and grew in intensity. Her hair in a ponytail, Tom sat on the couch, trying to watch the ending of the movie. But she couldn't concentrate. She'd just masturbated. As a woman. And loved it! No matter how much she tried, she couldn't deny that she'd enjoyed the sensations. At the same time, Tom was intensely angry at Miranda for what Miranda had done to her. Tom would never have masturbated like that without Miranda's magic. Tom would have had enough self-control. She felt that she'd betrayed herself, that she'd done something cheap and dirty. And loved it. And Tom missed her family. She wondered how her boys were doing. How her - her?? - wife was. What they'd done that weekend. Tears began to flow down her cheeks. Monday morning came too slowly for Tom. Tom wondered what the day would bring. Would it be an end to her torture, or the beginning of a new round of humiliation. It took her a very long time to put on her makeup, and she picked one of the most conservative outfits she could find - which for Miranda, meant the skirt was only three inches above the knee. Tom felt like a tramp in her clothing. Tom was just walking from the elevators when she heard Tom's voice from Tom's office. "Miranda, I've got an assignment for you." Tom paused, summoned all the courage she could muster, squared her shoulders, and marched into her old office. "What is it, Mr. Haskin?" Miranda grinned. "Did you enjoy your weekend?" she asked tauntingly. Tom fought back the tears. "Why are you doing this to me?" Miranda grinned from Tom's body. "Have you changed your mind yet?" Tom looked down, feeling the tears running down her cheeks. "You know I can't do that." Miranda ignored his plea. "Did you enjoy dancing? I'm sure the guys were eager to dance with someone like you." Tom looked defiantly at her old body. "I left early." Miranda's eyebrows shot up. "Really? Too bad," she admonished. "Did you do anything else?" Tom felt her cheeks redden at the memory of her exploration. Miranda smiled. "I'm sure you had fun, didn't you." Her taunts were daggers in Tom's heart. "Of course, that's just the tip of the iceberg. There's lots more." She laughed at his humiliation. "I had a great weekend. Those kids are such darlings!" She looked at Tom, to see if the taunts were undermining her. "You know, I wish I'd played catch with my dad, but this kind of makes up for it." She laughed again. "And Emily. Whooo!" She raised her eyebrows. "Is she ever good! I bet we did it nine or ten times!" Tom glared at Miranda. "Why are you doing this to me? Why have you stolen my life?" Miranda smiled pleasantly. "I'm not. Not all of it anyway." She made an awkward gesture, and there was another flash. This time, Tom was back in his own body. Miranda smiled from her body. "Have you changed your mind?" Tom frowned. "No," he said firmly Miranda turned, then glanced over her shoulder. "You've got until Friday to think it over." Tom sat down with a plunk. Damned if he didn't feel tired. What had she done with his body? Run a marathon? And with a sense of dread, he knew that Miranda would be back on Friday. It was a very long week for Tom. At work, Miranda seemed icy cold to him. At home, Emily was very loving and amorous. But Tom had to beg off two nights from being too tired. Emily had understood - smiling the whole time. After all, she was the one who had worn him out. Friday afternoon came all too quickly. And as the day ended, Miranda stopped by just as he was packing his briefcase. "You won't be needing that," she said reprovingly. Tom just glared at her, and continued to put his work in the briefcase. With a loud click, he shut the lid. "Have you changed your mind?" she asked again. Tom glared at her. "Go to hell," he snarled. "You know I won't do that." Miranda waved her hands, and - flash - Tom was back in her body. Tom's body smiled as it turned toward the door, leaving the briefcase on the desk. "You'd better think about it. Before you do something rash and get stuck." Tom frowned. "I'll never do that." Miranda grinned. "We'll see. I hope you enjoy the weekend - I know I will." She started to leave. "By the way, I left you a couple of presents." Miranda turned and left quickly. There was a box waiting on the kitchen table in Miranda's apartment. Tom looked warily at the box, then carefully opened it. And her mouth dropped open from surprise. Inside was a dildo. An enormous, penis-shaped, pink dildo. And that wasn't all - there was a vibrator as well. With a little note, in Miranda's handwriting. `Enjoy yourself'. Tom felt humiliated once more. She slumped into a chair, knowing that the tears were already flowing down her cheeks. She didn't hear the door open, but spun abruptly when it slammed shut again. It was Stacy. She noticed the tears right away. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice full of concern. Tom shook her head. "You wouldn't understand. It's a very long story." Stacy sat down. "Is it that guy at work again? The mean one you were telling me about?" She sat back in her chair. "You know, you really ought to file a harassment suit against him." Tom was aghast. If Miranda had already told her friends, she'd really been setting her up. She was far more devious - and dangerous - than Tom had first thought. Tom knew she needed to change the subject. "Why don't we rent a movie?" Stacy looked at her like she was from Mars. "You really do zone at those meetings, don't you!" She shook her head. "I've got a date with Rich tonight." Her tone was that of a mother reminding a child of a simple thing. Suddenly, Stacy snapped her fingers. "I know - why don't you call up Bob, and we can double? And have a little fun with the guys? That always puts a smile on your face." Tom shivered inwardly. Miranda was a slut. And that was what Stacy expected her to do, now that she occupied Miranda's body. "I can't," she stammered. "My head feels like it's going to burst. I just want to rest." Stacy looked at her, then saw the package on the table, with the dildo clearly visible. She grinned. "Sure. You get all the `rest' you need." Stacy flounced out the door, leaving Tom feeling a new level of shame. Tom sat for a few moments, feeling cheap and used. Out of control. Finally, she made herself a sandwich and plopped down on the couch. And as she did, she noticed that the VCR was on, and a tape was already loaded. Curious, Tom set down her sandwich and leaned over the machine. She ejected the tape, but found nothing. No label or markings. Puzzled, Tom pushed the tape back into the machine. Instantly, it came on. That meant it was a commercial tape, Tom thought. She sat back on the couch, wondering what the tape was. It only took a few seconds to realize it was a very hard-core porno movie. Tom felt her cheeks flush when she saw the two girls playing with each other while the man in the scene was busy boffing one of them from behind. And judging from the sounds, they were loving it. Tom felt the urges rising in herself, and knew that she was getting turned on by this display. But try as she might, she couldn't make herself turn off the tape. Miranda had done something to this body to make sure of that. As the actors continued their carnal display, Tom found herself stroking her nipples, and rubbing her crotch more and more intensely. Finally, Tom managed to pull summon a last little reserve of will power, and she pressed the stop button, even as her hands rubbed her aroused nipple. Tom knew that Miranda had left her body in this state - hypersensitive and so easily aroused. As yet another torture. Tom decided on a bath. A cool bath. That should help her calm down. She slid into the tub, feeling her nipples harden, but this time from the chill. A sigh escaped Tom's lips as she relaxed, knowing that the cool water was washing away her carnal desires. But it wasn't. Before long, Tom's hands began to explore again. More intensely than before, her fingers rubbed and touched, bringing Tom quickly to orgasm after orgasm. And Tom couldn't stop. No matter how much she tried, he couldn't force herself to quit. And even more to Tom's shame and anger, she found herself wondering about the dildo on the kitchen table as she continued to masturbate. After the long bath, Tom was sure that all the sexual excitement was gone. But she was wrong. The nightie danced across her nipples, teasing and exciting them. She was still very horny. After a long, tortuous argument with herself, Tom convinced herself that a little masturbation was okay, more to relieve the guilt over her self-inflicted humiliation. She started her self pleasuring again. And then, in an action which confused Tom, she stopped long enough to get the movie from the living room and start it in the bedroom VCR. Tom was quickly lost in the throes of multiple orgasms, her excitement increased by watching the action on the movie. Finally, Tom couldn't stop herself - she paused the movie and scrambled out of bed. Seconds later, she was back with the toys Miranda had left. No matter how much Tom hated herself, she couldn't stoip. Slowly, inexorably, the dildo slid into her wet crotch. Tom screamed with pleasure as the first orgasm rocked her. And at the same time, her mind screamed in agony as she realized what she was doing. Knowing that it hadn't been a dream, Tom awoke, feeling cheap and disgusted with herself. She hadn't been able to exercise any self control. She'd played with herself repeatedly, and with the dildo and vibrator, too. And then she realized that the dildo was still inside her. Tom reached down, and began to slowly slide the offending item from within her. But as it slid, it touched her skin, and she felt the sexual urges build anew. Feeling like an addict, Tom let the urges take control and began to play yet again, even as she tried to force herself to stop, knowing that it was Miranda's way of torturing her. Stacy plopped her bag on the couch, then bent over and pulled out a movie. "Rich wasn't that great. And the idea of a movie really sounded good." She reached back in her bag, then pulled out a few small cardboard containers. "Some Chinese take-out - I know how much you love this stuff." She set the food on the table, then pulled out the last item. "And some popcorn." Tom smiled to herself. This was an evening she could handle. She dished up the food quickly, then handed a plate to Stacy and flopped herself on the couch. The credits started. The movie was that standard chick-flick, Titanic. Stacy was oohing and ah-ing over Leonardo DeCaprio, and Tom found herself puzzling about him. And puzzled. Why was she thinking of a man this way? Stacy did most of the talking, which was good. Miranda hadn't left any memories of Stacy with Tom, so Tom tried to play it safe. Finally, the first movie was over. Stacy headed to the bathroom while Tom switched movies. The second movie started, and Tom was shocked to see that it was as bad, or worse, than the film Miranda had left. As her excitement built, she also felt herself becoming angrier and feeling more out of control. And then Tom felt Stacy slip up behind her, slipping her hands around Tom's waist and cupping Tom's boobs. Tom turned, startled, just in time to get a sloppy wet kiss on her mouth. After a long sensual kiss, Tom felt breathless. That had been very exciting. And confusing. She opened her eyes, and saw that Stacy was in a very sexy teddy. The surprise was quickly drowned by arousal as Stacy began to touch and caress Miranda's hot sexy body, and Tom was along for a ride she couldn't control. Tom awoke, feeling an arm draped over her body. Carefully, she turned, and saw Stacy's lovely figure still asleep. And still wearing the strap-on dildo. Tom felt a rush of emotions - guilt, shame, embarrassment, lust, excitement. She remembered how fearful she'd been of the lesbian love with Stacy. How she'd been hesitant about the oral sex. About her fear of the strap-on, and how quickly that turned to uncontrollable lust when Stacy began to thrust it inside Tom. And Tom felt the lust rising again at the thought of Stacy and the dildo. She knew it was a losing battle to fight it - Miranda had done something to ensure that. But she still tried. Tom slipped into the office early Monday morning. She felt embarrassed and ashamed at having to face Miranda, knowing that Miranda could easily guess what she'd done. Eventually, as expected, Miranda came by her office. Tom's body was grinning. "How was the weekend?" Miranda taunted. "Did you enjoy the toys?" Tom felt his cheeks redden. "Please give me back my life," he begged, sounding nearly defeated. Miranda lifted her head haughtily. "You have your life. Monday through Friday." She smiled. "This was a great weekend. Bobby did so well in T-ball - two runs and he made two outs! We all went for ice-cream afterwards. And then Emily suggested I take the boys to a real baseball game. You know, a father-son thing?" She laughed. "Emily sets a great picnic. We had a ball. The only thing is, it's too bad that she was having her period. But she did give some really good head to make up for it." Tom felt the tears stinging his eyes. Miranda was humiliating him with details of how she'd impersonated him. How Emily had had sex with Miranda - in his body. And then Miranda waved her hands, and Tom was back in his own body. He felt tired again, and completely out of control and humiliated. He looked fearfully at Miranda. "Have you changed your mind yet?" she asked simply. Tom frowned. "You know I can't do that. I can't hurt Emily and the boys like that." Miranda got a wicked grin. "I deleted the file you tried to save," she said casually. She waited for the expression on Tom's face to change. "Oh, yes! I know all about that. And the little plan you were formulating to try to tell Emily." Her face got very stern. "I can read your memories, you know. Well, you can just stop those thoughts. If you even try, I can make you stuck in my body. Forever!" Tom turned, angry. But Miranda called after him. "Oh, and just so you have something to look forward to, I'll be having my period next weekend. Absolutely awful cramping and bloating. Really uncomfortable." She grinned wickedly, knowing just how much she was torturing him. Tom was very distracted during the week, and Traci noticed. She asked repeatedly if everything was okay. Tom reassured her, but she didn't seem convinced. And then Friday came again, too quickly. Tom sat dejectedly in his chair, waiting for the inevitable visit from Miranda. Finally, a woman stood in his doorway. Miranda. He looked fearfully at her. "Are you ready for the weekend?" she teased him. Tom's eyes widened. "Please don't do this," he begged. Miranda sneered at him. "Are you ready for an affair then? Remember, Bobby's team is playing for the championship. You'd so hate to miss that! And the boys will be staying with Grandma Saturday night. Now won't that be romantic?" Tom felt his eyes watering. "I can't," he said softly. Miranda worked her hands, and again Tom was in her body. And as his body brushed past her, Miranda paused. "You're lucky. With the period, you won't have to worry about sex. You'll probably get off with just a blowjob." She laughed as she strode for the elevators. Tom toweled her hair dry, feeling her boobs shaking on her chest. But she'd just had a good workout, and felt curiously refreshed. Stacy smiled at her, more than friendship in the smile, then glanced at the clock. "Hurry up," Stacy urged. They were at Guido's. The irony wasn't lost on Tom. This was where it had started with Miranda. And now she, in Miranda's body, was back here with Stacy and Rich and Bob. A double date. Fortunately, or unfortunately, Tom was having her period. On the one hand, that would be a certain turn-off to the guys. No expectations of sex. On the other hand, she felt awful. Her waistband was tight - bloating? She felt that all her clothes were too small - and her entire abdomen felt tender and sore. Cramped. Uncomfortable. She'd taken an aspirin, and that helped. Some. But not enough. She wondered if this was what every period was like, or if Miranda had done something to make Tom especially miserable. She was betting on the latter. Tom excused herself to go to the rest room. And as expected, Stacy followed her. It didn't take Stacy any time at all to realize the reason for Tom's discomfort. "Too bad," Stacy observed. "The guys won't go for that." Tom felt very self-conscious, to say nothing of being embarrassed about the period. "Well, I can't help it," she said defensively. "Whoa," Stacy said softly, her tone urging Tom to be less upset. "I didn't say it was your fault." Tom realized she'd been kind of irritable. "Sorry." Stacy glanced down. "I guess I'm a bit upset, myself. I was hoping for another foursome." Tom's mouth dropped open. "Another . foursome?" Stacy grinned. "Yeah, like last time. You remember?" She looked wistful, and from her hardening nipples, it was clear the thoughts were of sex. "Maybe next weekend." The dancing was fun, but Tom was less comfortable than last time. Mostly because of the cramping and bloating. In spite of that, Tom was still horny from dancing with the guys. Then Stacy dropped Tom off at Miranda's apartment. As she turned to leave, she heard Tom starting to cry. She helped Tom into the apartment. "What's wrong?" Stacy asked softly Tom tried to wave her concern off. "It's nothing. Just." Stacy was trying to understand. "Just that time of month?" "No!" Tom held her head in her hands. "Yes. I don't know." She started to really cry. "I can't explain it," she sobbed. "Work?" Stacy prompted. Tom felt her body being wracked by sobs. "Yes. That's part of it. I just feel like everything is a mess. Like my life is out of control." Tom sank into Stacy's arms and let her friend comfort her. Too slowly, following a Sunday of discomfort, crying, and general despair, Monday rolled around. A Sunday of trying to jog, but being too sore. Of trying to watch a ball game, but not being able to concentrate for the aches and general discomfort. A long, tortuous, agonizingly slow Sunday. And it was over. Finally. Tom slunk into his office, feeling the cramping hopefully for the last time. At least for a while. It was painful walking. It was uncomfortable sitting. And the aspirin wasn't helping. In short, Tom was miserable. The clock ticked its way past eight o'clock. Tom waited hopefully, but Miranda didn't come in. When another co-worker poked his head in, Tom realized he'd have to fake being Miranda for a while longer. At least here, in the office, he knew what everyone did, so it was much easier to pretend being Miranda. Nine o'clock came and went. Still no sign of Miranda. Tom began to feel fidgety, wondering what had happened. Ten o'clock. Still nothing. Now Tom was starting to feel panicky. What is something had happened to Tom? Then she'd be trapped. Trapped in a dynamite body with a heightened sex drive. Tom felt the icy grip of terror, and fought of the nausea it brought. Eleven o'clock. Still no sign of Miranda. Tom finally summoned her courage and walked to Traci's desk. "Is Mr. Haskin going to be in today?" she asked, trying to sound innocent. The glare Traci gave her spoke volumes. Miranda was a threat. To any single girl trying to date. To any married woman, whose husband could be trapped and used. Tom realized just what Miranda's life was. And she shuddered to think that she might be trapped in it. Traci finally spoke. "He called to say he'd be in after lunch." Tom felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Miranda would be here. She would get her life back. At least, until Friday. Tom spent lunch alone. She didn't dare try to spend friendly time with any of her co-workers. Not after she'd realized just what they thought of Miranda. Trying to get chummy would be totally out of character. And then, finally, Miranda came in, poking her head into her office. She was grinning, knowing that she'd tormented poor Tom just by being late. "Did you have a good weekend?" she asked. And then, before Tom could answer, she continued. "Oh, that's right! You had your period this weekend. No wonder you look so upset!" Tom just sat, enduring her humiliation quietly. She couldn't think of any way to get her life back. She was totally at the mercy of Miranda. "Well, I had a great weekend!" Miranda bragged, knowing how much she was hurting Tom. "Bobby's birthday party was so much fun!" She sat on the corner of Miranda's desk. "I really have to hand it to you - you picked out some great presents! He loved them!" Tom sat silently, feeling another piece of her being destroyed. She'd missed her son's birthday party. All because of Miranda. Miranda grinned. "And I must say that Emily is getting so much more creative! She tempts me to stay in this body." Tom felt his muscles tense, felt the blood nearly boiling. But he controlled his anger. Venting would only cause Miranda to torment him more. Miranda laughed, seeing him flush with anger. "So, how did you like your first period? Which was worst? The cramping? The bloating? The shoes that don't fit? Which did you think was the worst part?" Tom just sat silently, her lips pressed tightly together. Miranda waved her hands, and Tom was back in his body. Still trembling with rage, he stood and slowly walked out of the door, leaving Miranda's mocking laughter echoing in his ears. By Friday morning, Tom was starting to feel desperate. He'd spent the week unable to satisfy Emily. Whether that was because Miranda left his body near exhaustion every week, or because she'd done something to him, or because (and that was his biggest dread) spending time in Miranda's body was making him start to think like a girl, Tom wasn't sure. All he knew is that he was close to panic. What was worse, Tom knew that Miranda was going to make sure he had sex. Sometime, somehow, she was going to force him to have sex while he was in her body. And there was nothing he could do to stop her. So Friday, Tom slipped out of the office around two. He knew he couldn't go home, so he went to his favorite place - a little bench overlooking the lake. Quiet, peaceful. Tom found the spot very restful and relaxing. But not today. Today, Tom was filled with dread. It was no surprise to him when Miranda showed up. She stomped across the grass and plopped herself next to him. "You're being naughty," she scolded, as if he were a little child. "You should know better than trying to sneak away. I can find you anywhere." Tom didn't look up from the lake. "You're ruining my life," he said firmly. "You're going to stop." Miranda smiled mockingly. "Are you ready to have an affair?" Tom shook his head. "Over my dead body." Miranda smiled sadly. "Then I'm not going to stop," she replied casually. Again, she waved her arms, and again he found himself in her body. Tom's body rose, then leaned back next to Miranda's. "I hope you're enjoying these weekend outings. I know I am." She laughed. "I've got a really big surprise for you this time." Tom sat on the bench, feeling completely overwhelmed. Miranda's surprise could only mean one thing. She'd rigged it so Tom would have sex. And given Miranda's kinky tendencies to date, Tom was full of dread at just what Miranda had arranged. It was very late at night when Tom finally walked to her car. Late enough that the cops near the area warned her that she was in serious danger being here this late. But Tom didn't care. Tom realized that she was almost hoping to be mugged. Or worse. Saturday, as expected, Stacy came by and the duo went to aerobics. And Tom got a rude shock - the jiggling bouncing women, shapely as they were, did absolutely nothing for her. She found that detail very ominous. After Tom cleaned up a bit, Stacy let herself back in. And once again, she had a bag of Chinese takeout and a couple of movies. The first thing Tom noticed was that there was more than enough food for her and Stacy. The second thing was that the videos were both XXX-rated. And then the doorbell rang again. Before Tom could move, Stacy bounced up and opened the door. And, to Tom's horror, she let in Bob and Rich. They ate on the couch while watching the first movie - and listening to Stacy, Bob, and Rich giving a running commentary on the sexy video. Tom tried to stay calm and detached, but it was hard not to notice how Rich was all over Stacy. Tom flinched when Bob's hand landed on her leg. And then she noticed that Bob's other hand was caressing Stacy's breast. This was definitely planned as a foursome. Bob leaned over and kissed Tom. Directly, fully, sloppy, his tongue thrusting into her mouth. And Tom found her body reciprocating, beyond Tom's direct control. Tom was kissing a guy! And not only could she not stop, her body was telling her she didn't want to stop. The kissing was followed quickly with Bob's hands caressing her boobs, a firm but gentle touch which stirred a sensuous tingling in Tom. And as much as Tom's body was relishing the touching, Tom's mind was recoiling in horror, unable to cry out, unable to stop this body-run-wild. Tom felt her body getting moist, horny, ready and willing to accept sex. Tom wanted to stop, but she couldn't. There was no willpower left. But still she fought the unnatural urges, the mental programming left by Miranda specifically to torture her. Tom felt Bob's hands slipping inside her blouse, slowly and deliberately unbuttoning the blouse, then unfastening her bra. Tom straightened momentarily so she could get her arms free, then wrapped her arms around Bob's neck as he continued to kiss and caress her. Tom barely noticed that Bob was fumbling with one hand, so intent was she on the powerful sexual feelings radiating from her boobs. But then Bob's hand grasped hers and guided it down. Tom felt a rush of nausea as her hand brushed against Bob's penis. She was about to touch another man's pecker. But she couldn't stop herself. She grasped it firmly, lovingly, and began to rub her hand up and down the smooth shaft. In the meantime, Bob continued to arouse her as he slipped his hand up her skirt and began to touch her crotch. Tom glanced, and saw Stacy straddling Rich, fully involved in sex. And for some reason, this made her even more horny and curious. No matter how revolted and disgusted she was, Tom couldn't stop herself. Bob couldn't wait either. He pushed her on her back and gently pried her legs apart. And then Tom saw Bob's enlarged, fully erect and aroused penis heading straight into her cavity. Inwardly, Tom screamed. She couldn't stop. Nothing she tried let her have any control over this body. She was merely along for the ride. The most basic primitive instincts controlled her, ruled her body, vetoed any thoughts from her mind. And the instincts were set for sex. She moaned uncontrollably as she felt Bob penetrate, and then she began to rock her hips, thrusting herself onto Bob, trying desperately to get all of him inside her. And as the orgasm overtook her, she screamed with the primal passion. After the guys had dumped their loads, they sat on the couch, resting in the afterglow. But Stacy had other ideas. She began to kiss and caress Tom; soon the two were pleasuring each other. Rich got aroused first, and he moved behind Tom and coarsely entered from the rear, surprising her. As she gasped, feeling the sudden increase in pleasure, Stacy moved from under her. And then Bob moved in front of Tom. Tom's eyes widened with fear as she felt her head being forced down, into Bob's waiting lap. Where Bob's aroused member waited for a blow job. Tom wanted to scream, but her mouth was suddenly full of Bob's engorged cock. On and on the sex went, while she was unable to fight the nausea and the rising bile in her stomach as she endured the sex. And while this was going on, Stacy straddled Bobs face, so he could lick her. Bob and Rich came at the same time; Tom found herself unable to breath or to move her head, forced to swallow Bob's load even as Rich erupted inside her. Tom recalled Miranda's warning - and was suddenly terrified that one or both of these guys could easily impregnate her. When Bob was satisfied, he let go of Tom's head, allowing her to lift up. Tom felt the nausea increase, and pulled herself free from Rich as she ran toward the bathroom. She slammed the door shut and turned just in time to puke into the toilet. Weakened, she collapsed to the floor, her arms holding the toilet seat for support while her body kept retching, hurling the contents of her stomach until it was empty. And then to torture her more, it continued contracting painfully, convulsing her body with dry heaves. Tom hated herself. She hated what Miranda had done to her. What she had done to herself. Why? Why was Miranda torturing her so? Would she get pregnant? That would mean she was stuck - in a hot sexy body with libido on overdrive. She had just given a guy head. And swallowed. But she was Tom! At least she thought she was still Tom. Wasn't she? Then why didn't she get aroused watching the girls at aerobics? Why was she feeling aroused watching guys? But whoever she was, she hated herself. For performing oral sex. For not fighting harder. For not being stronger willed. Tom knew she wanted to curl up and die. And out in the living room, Stacy was continuing to service and be serviced by Bob and Rich. Like nothing had happened. Like Tom had just had a sudden urge to go to the bathroom. Sunlight found Tom curled up on the floor, half sitting, half lying. Her breasts were bare, and she wore only the skirt which she had never gotten around to taking off. Her face appeared lifeless, like the spark had gone out. Her eyes were dull, shocked into a near- catatonic state. She felt cheap. Dirty. Slutty. Used. And the worst thing was she had enjoyed the orgasms. She had enjoyed them too much. Tom wouldn't have. But she did. And so her mind retreated, insulating itself from the shock of the previous night. The phone rang, but Tom's eyes didn't so much as blink. After a few seconds, it stopped. After a while, it rang again, more insistently. But still, Tom's eyes were unwavering, lost in a sea of self-loathing and shock. As evening fell, Stacy's insistent voice could be heard, trying to interrupt the answering machine, hoping that Tom would answer. But Tom sat silently, unmoving. After the sun was down, Stacy could be heard banging on the door, knocking insistenly. Tom had set the security latch, and Stacy couldn't get in. But she knocked. Pounded. Yelled. Tried to get Tom's attention. And still Tom lay curled on the floor, unmoving, nearly lifeless. Monday morning, Tom walked stiffly into the office, She was dressed so neatly, her makeup done so perfectly, that everything appeared well. Only her manner looked wrong. She walked like an automaton. A robot. No facial expressions. No greetings to co-workers. She just walked. And her eyes looked tired. Beyond tired - exhausted. Tom walked into Miranda's office. After a few seconds, she came out, still walking stiffly, carrying Miranda's coffee cup. Silently, she poured herself a cup of coffee and walked back into her office, closing the door behind her. Miranda, in Tom's body, came into the office smiling. After dropping off his briefcase, he walked down to Miranda's office. His brow furrowed when he saw the door closed. He knocked, then opened the door. Tom, in Miranda's body, sat stiffly in her chair, facing the door, waiting for her to arrive. She looked very haggard, tired. She barely seemed to notice that he walked in. Miranda grinned. "So, did you have a good weekend? Were the guys fun?" Tom took a long slow deep breath. "Why are you doing this? Why are you torturing me?" His words sounded lifeless, weary. Miranda shrugged her shoulders. "Did you do one-on-one, or gang-bang?" She saw Tom's face flush, and knew. "Gang-bang. Hmmm. No wonder I look so tired!" She smiled at her private joke. "Well, I'll just have to see what kind of party I can set up for next weekend." She saw Tom blush and look down, and knew his humiliation was nearly complete. She had nearly broken him. Tom looked up, his eyes still lifeless. "You have to stop this." Miranda grinned her evil grin. "Why? I'm really enjoying myself." She gazed at Tom. "Did you remember to use some protection?" She saw Tom's eyes widen. "Of course, you realized that I'm not on the pill. So surely you made sure they used condoms at least. No? Tsk tsk. You know you might have gotten pregnant." Her grin widened. "Of course, you could do a lot worse than be stuck in my body. After all, it is a hot little thing, isn't it!" She smiled. "And so excitable!" Tom's eyes flashed. "It doesn't matter anymore. You've humiliated m